


Save Me, I'll Be Quiet.

by 3BeesAndCoffee3



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Avenger reader - Freeform, Blood, Bruises, Crying, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Falling In Love, Fighting, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Steve, Reader Doesn't know, Steve Is In Love With The Reader, Steve Is NOT abusive, Steve Is Super Sweet, Steve is a badass, Threats, Tony Stark Is Kinda An Idiot, Tony ships it, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3BeesAndCoffee3/pseuds/3BeesAndCoffee3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request: It could be either Steve or Tony they are in love with the reader and they realize the reader is getting bruises but they are not from the mission later they realize it’s because of her abusive boyfriend and in the end either tony/Steve go and rescue the reader. </p><p>A/N: okay, so I tried my best? It definitely played out differently then I thought it would, but I followed the prompt as best I could, and I kinda like it. I hope you enjoy it, also in know way do I support domestic, sexual or any kind of violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me, I'll Be Quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS.
> 
> Tumbr: [My Blog](http://hey-kids-want-some-avengers.tumblr.com/)

Dark, discolored, blood blistered, raised skin. The patches varying in size and color, some a purple and others an arrangement of greens and blues, the skin sensitive and agitated. The splotches cover your upper and lower arms and back mostly, the makeup doing little to cover them, as usual.

You sigh, tossing the concealer to the side and pulling on your clothes, the bullet proof material clinging to your skin, making sure it covers the marks.

“Are you almost ready?” You hear Natasha shout as she walks past your door, always the first one ready for a mission.

“Yeah, almost!” You holler back, pinning your hair back so it’s out of your way, wincing at the slight pinch of the clip as you fasten it back. You grab your bag, swinging the worn and musty material over your sore shoulder as you leave, nearly bumping into Steve as you leave your room, well, your temporary room, seeing as how you didn't stay with the Avengers full time. “Oh, gosh, sorry” you mumble, looking up at him apologetically, your head wasn’t working right today, it hadn’t been all week.

A week without anything to do with the Avengers meant a week at home. A week in a small, dish covered, laundry strewn, just generally disgusting and dirty apartment, with your boyfriend. Night after night without sleep, your eyelids heavy and your throat dry, just the sound of him breathing through his open mouth filling the room. You lay awake in silence, watching the dark shadows cast across the ceiling from passing cars outside, the unsteady rise and fall of your chest as your mind races over everything that’s happened.

Somehow, everything you’ve been through with the Avengers has never been as terrifying as it is with him. It’s never as real as everything is with him. You can’t hide behind a suit and weapons, because with him you're just his girlfriend, with him you’re exposed and helpless.

You break away from your thoughts, eyes scanning over Steve’s features as he speaks. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N.” He smiles gently in response, moving aside to let you pass down the narrow corridor first. “You ready to go?” He asked, following behind you as you hurried along, trying not to keep him up.

“Yep.” You nod, ignoring the gnawing pang of hunger in your stomach as you walk. Four days sense you last ate, partially out of fear, partially out of the fact you aren’t sure you could stomach anything but small sips of water. You’d known your boyfriend for a year, almost a year and a half, you’d known how bad he was for you for almost as long but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that things had gotten to a new low. A point you weren’t sure you were entirely capable of facing without stomach acid boiling up inside you and your skin being slicked in a cold sweat, heart racing.

Obviously your face and body language were enough to tip Steve off that something was wrong seeing as how he was now walking along side you, head tiled slightly, a worried expression playing his features. He always seemed to know what you were thinking, at least to some degree, you’d been growing close with him recently and it was nice, being able to talk to someone who cared as much as he did. You wonder distantly if the knots in your stomach would fade if you could tell him, but you push the thought away quickly. This is your mess, not theirs, it wouldn’t be fair to them, especially not Steve. “What’s wrong?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, his expression reminding you way too much of a puppy.

You look down, to avoid his gaze, your cheeks heating slightly under his eyes. He shouldn’t have this affect on you. “Nothing, I just didn’t get much sleep last night, kinda tired.” You smile, feeling a little better knowing it isn’t a complete lie, you hadn't slept in days.

He’s carrying his shield along side him, his posture strict and soldier like as always. He nods, giving a quick wave and a smile as you both pass Bruce, heading towards the air craft. “Y/N, that’s what you said yesterday too, what’s bothering you?” He asks, genuinely concerned and curious for reasons you can’t quite seem to understand.

You both make your way into the room where the jet is currently ready and waiting, though only Natasha, and by some miracle, Tony are ready. “It’s really nothing, just can’t sleep lately I guess.” You say quietly, only two steps ahead of Steve. You both load onto the jet, grimacing at Tony who’s currently leaned back in one of the seats, feet kicked up, scrolling through some document on one of his holograms while he bites into what looks like his fourth or fifth doughnut. The sugary glaze and sweet scent that quickly filled your nose made you cringe, your hunger to the point anything sweet makes you want to curl up and cry.

“Hey, Y/N.” Tony waved, words muffled by the doughnut wedged between his teeth.

“You’re disgusting.” Steve chuckles, sitting down beside him, not really leaving you many other comfortable seats other than besides Steve.

“Hey, blood sugar is everything.” Tony said sarcastically in response, waving another doughnut in his face causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna die from a heart attack by time you’re forty.” You mumble, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, leaning against the arm-rest on your seat.

Steve chuckles, crossing his legs and readying himself for the long flight.

You’re not sure when you closed your eyes but you’re sure you didn’t mean to keep them that way. Either way, a while later you open your heavy eyes, sleep and grogginess clouding your head, and it takes you a while to register that you actually fell asleep. You sit up more, stretching and popping your sore joints, that's when you realized you hadn't just fallen asleep on the jet, but you were also leaning against Steve. “Hey sleepy head.” Steve smiles down at you, seemingly unphased by your head resting on him. You feel yourself blush and you smile shyly, mumbling an apology as you looked around the jet while you collected yourself.

Tony’s ranting to Bruce about some new model of his suit he’s working on, Thor’s in the corner looking generally confused, which wasn’t really new, and Clint and Natasha were busy having a quiet, civilized conversation across from you, and then there was Steve. His hand was resting on your arm, his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. He’d practically held you as you slept and not only was he acting like it was the most natural thing in the world, but it also felt incredibly right. It was comfortable, gentle.

You sat up straight anyways, clearing your throat and busying yourself with reading a book Natasha had handed you, doing anything to avoid an awkward conversation with him.

The next few hours are a blur of shouting through ear pieces, sharp corners and punches. Bloody knuckles and loaded guns, heavy boots and bending staircases. Yelling and disarming alarms, gun shots and bullets hitting the floor. Soon enough, the missions over, considerably easier than you'd thought it would be, and you’re all leaving sore and tired.

You feel strange, most of the mission had been in the back of your mind, your focus more on what was going to happen when you went home as opposed to the immediate danger you were in. It wasn't safe.

“You thought you were tired before, now you can really take that nap.” Tony joked, heading back to the jet with you while he tapped at a malfunctioning piece of equipment attached to his wrist.

You feel your cheeks start to heat up under a light blush at the memory of waking up against Steve. How natural, and how right it had felt made you want to do it everyday. He smelled like soap, like vanilla and coffee and his arms were firm but he held you like you were more fragile than glass. You shouldn’t think of him like that, you shouldn’t blush when you think about him at all. He’s your teammate, he’s your friend. You have, like it or not, a relationship, and it’s one you can’t leave. “I’ll pass thanks.” You say, glancing down at a dark spot of blood on your arm through your clothes from where a knife grazed you.

“Ooh, someone needs to get looked at.” He’s got a smug look on his face, which okay, it’s pretty much his resting face, but it’s more devious than usual and it makes you a little nervous. “How deep is it?” He asks, moving closer.

“It isn’t, it hardly touched me. Quick bandage, I’ll be fine.” You assure him, narrowing your eyes at the nearly disappointed look on his face. “What’s with you?” You ask suspiciously.

“What? Who? Me? What did I do?” He shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, causing the already broken watch-like device to go flying into the brush somewhere in the distance. “I didn’t do anything.” He huffs, looking longingly into the distance at his now long gone machinery.

“Uhuh, right.” You mumble, looking over your shoulder in the metals general direction as you walk. Your arm stung, knowing it was a little deeper than you’d like to admit and that Natasha and Steve would no doubt have to help stitch you up.

“Okay, okay, if you insist, I guess I have to tell you.” He sighs dramatically, throwing an arm over your shoulder, causing you to wince slightly as he unknowingly hit your bruised skin. You give him a confused expression. “Steve likes you. Well, okay, he liked you, now he’s full on in love with you–I mean c'mon have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re all he ever talks about, the two of you have gotten really close, incase you hadn’t noticed, and he really, really likes you. Like, it’s almost creepy, but that's none of my business.  
Anyways, I know the two of you have been through a lot together, I think he’d open up more around you. I was hoping you were just hurt enough-no offense-that he’d be able to dote on you all cute like, and yeah. There, that's my plan.” He heaves a sigh, looking at you for your reaction. “I’m trying to hook you up.”

You feel like all the air from your lungs is gone. Completely gone, impossible to regain control of your breathes again. You feel a hallow shiver run down your back and you find yourself growing nauseous. Steve Rogers loves you, and you love him, and you have since the day you met him, since the day he held out his hand and asked if you needed somewhere to stay. But you can’t ever be with him. Not ever.

Worse, no one can know why. You feel like you’re falling, the world swallowing you up into darkness, because now you’re realizing you’re alone. Completely alone. Steve deserves better than you, you know. He deserves someone less damaged and tattered, less broken, but somehow you don’t care much. You just want to be free of the life you’re being forced to live now, the house and bed you’re forced to stay at, the man you’re made to sleep with. You hate it. You want help, you need it, but you can’t have it. He scares you too much, his hallow threats just terrifying enough to keep you quiet. Quiet enough no one will ever know.

“Y/N?” Tony asks softly, brow furrowed with concern. You’re both close to the jet now.

“Yeah…” You mumble, not sure you ever responded in the first place. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Are you okay?” He asks, stopping outside the jet entrance, you stop too. “Come on, you had to know. Anyways, that cut looks plenty deep.” He says, giving a good look at your arm.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, hands shaking. Somehow you’d always been able ignore how you felt towards Steve, how you knew he felt towards you, at least until now. You push past Tony, getting onto the jet and sitting down by Natasha, unable to look at Steve.

“Hey Y/N." Natahsa smiled, holding ice to Clint's head, his broken hearing aid in his hand. "Someone got hit.” Nat says tiredly, looking at your arm, the blood dark even against the black fabric. You see Steve look up almost instantly out of the corner of your eye, worry probably written all over his face.

You shake your head. “It’s not bad. Just a quick slice.” You say quietly, trying to ignore the tremor in your hands.

“Let me see.” Steve said as he got up, walking over to you and crouching down.

“I’m fine.” You say shakily, glancing at Tony who was seated again, looking confused.

“Yeah right, you need stitches sweetie.” Natasha chuckles, lifting your sleeve enough that she could see it properly and clean it up. You sigh in defeat, leaning back in your chair, trying desperately not to look at Steve, though you could still tell he was giving you that damn kicked puppy look.

You wince slightly at the sting of peroxide as it hits your skin, bubbling over the wound, boiling under your skin.

You know you have to distance yourself from Steve, even though the thought alone makes you sick to your stomach. You can’t get any closer to him or it’ll be bad for you and Steve, especially since you don’t need your boyfriend finding out, about any of it. You’re so busy overthinking everything, running every scenario through your head, letting yourself get lost in your thoughts that you hardly feel the needle slide into your tender skin as Nat stitches your wound.

“Y/N, are you okay? You look sorta pale.” Steve frowned, biting his lip worriedly, his eyes scanning you for more wounds.

You frown, glancing up at him finally, feeling mildly nauseous though it definitely wasn’t from pain. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You smile awkwardly. Tony was watching like a child on Christmas morning, perched on the edge off his seat, eyes sparkling and hands splayed over his legs–which seemed to be earning a strange look from Clint but besides that, it was going unnoticed. You made a point of rolling your eyes at him, which only seemed to please him more. At least for now you figured it would be best to act normal, continuing to bicker with Tony and act as naturally as you could manage around Steve, just until you knew exactly how to go about distancing yourself without drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Sheesh, you must’ve really taken a beating out there.” Natasha says through a slight chuckle as she lightly pokes on of your exposed bruises you’d carelessly forgotten to keep covered.

You felt yourself pale slightly but played it off as best you could, laughing softly with a shrug.  
“I never said I was agile.” You look back to Steve only to find him frowning at you, his bright blue eyes flicking from your arm and then back at you and shit—

–he knows.

You don’t know how much, you’re not sure how, but you can tell, by the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s gone almost painfully silent. He knows there’s something wrong, and that’s more than enough.

You look up at him, eyes wide and blatantly pleading. You don’t want to say anything out loud, not now when everyone’s here, but you’re starting to panic and you feel like you should say something, like you need to do something. You wait until Natasha stands, crossing the jet to toss out the bloody bandages before you mouth a hurried, desperate “please” at him.

He’s still frowning, looking down at you like he’s not quite sure what to do or say, but he nods after a minute anyways. “I want to talk to you later..” He says quietly, going and sitting by Tony.

Once the jet lands you stand, pushing past Clint and Bruce with an apology as you rush to get to your room. You didn’t want to talk to Steve, not about this, you weren’t sure if you could. It wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but avoiding him and locking yourself in your room for as long as possible seemed like your best bet.

“Y/N, hey!” Steve shouted, trying to catch up with you as you rushed to your room, breathes short. You bit your lip, stopping in your tracks. “Please talk to me…” He bit his lip, gently putting his hand on your shoulder as he catches up. “where did those come from…?” He asked under his breath to lessen the chance someone would hear you assumed. He was looking at your covered arm as if to make sure you knew he was talking about the bruises.

You frown, watching everyone go their own way as they depart the jet, seemingly unaware or uninterested in you and Steve. “What are you talking about?” You laugh nervously, taking a small step back.

“The bruises Y/N, the ones on your arm.” He says calmly, though he was clearly worried.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. “I told you, they’re from the fight back there.” You lie, even though you know this doesn’t add up with your begging on the jet.

“Don’t bullshit me, some of those are at least a week old and you weren’t here last week. You didn’t have those on the last mission either.” Steve deadpans, eyeing you for a response.

You mouth is hanging open slightly, eyes wide in panic. Your mouth felt unbelievably dry, your throat burning and raw like you hadn’t drank nearly an entire bottle of water on the way home. You can feel sweat clinging to the back of your neck, causing your clothes to stick uncomfortably to your skin.

Steve would know how old your bruised were, of course he would, how many had he seen in his day, how many had he watched fade?  
It wasn’t surprising, really. The green and purple fading into your skin showed how old they were quite clearly, why shouldn’t he be able to tell?

You felt careless for letting them see, for even letting it happen in the first place. “Steve, please…” You try, trying to ignore the sting of tears welling in your eyes. You were desperate. You didn’t want him to know and you couldn’t talk about it, you just couldn’t.

“I’m worried, please, I won’t tell anyone.”

You knew he wasn’t lying, and you trusted him, of course you did, but you couldn’t do this to him, it wasn’t his fight. “I can’t.” You say quietly, shaking your head. “I have to go Steve, I said I’d be home for dinner tonight.” You say before realizing you’d never actually told them anything other than that you lived alone. You look back at him quickly but you can tell nothing you could tell him now would help.

“Your boyfriend…?” Steve guessed and you could see a mixture of emotions running through his head. He looked concerned, for you no doubt, but he also looked hurt. Hurt you didn’t tell him, hurt that he couldn’t have you, all of the above.

You nod slowly, watching him guiltily. You were terrified to go back to him, you didn’t want to, but you didn’t have a choice.

“Those are from him, aren’t they.”

You feel yourself suppress a sob as you nod.

The next thing you know Steve’s heading out towards your car, hands clenched into fists and ordering you to get in, give him directions and explain what he’d done. Somehow, for some reason, you listened.

He parks outside your apartment a while after you’d told him everything, your face tear streaked and your body shaking. “Shit Y/N, you should have told me, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asked, eyes wide as he looked at you.

“Because I was too fucking scared Steve.” You say shakily, running a hand through your hair. The words come out quiet, your throat dry. “I’ve been scared. He scares me more than anything and I didn’t want to risk making him upsets. I didn’t want you or anyone else hurt…”

He frowns, leaning over you, hovering a mere four inches above you so he can look into your eyes. “I would do anything for you. You shouldn’t have to be scared, and now you won’t be, not anymore.” He promises before he ducks his head down lightly and kisses you gently. He seems confident, his lips are soft and inviting and he’s so much more gentle than your boyfriend ever was.

You can feel your breath catch in your throat like all the air in the world is simply the small breath caught between you two. Your eyes widen slightly once you realize that you were here with Steve to end things between you and your boyfriend, finally. Of course, it was also now dawning on you that Steve Rogers was kissing you.

He tasted like coffee, as weird as that seemed. Dark roast coffee and Carmel, his lips soft and warm against yours.

“Let’s go.” He said, pulling back slowly, his lips brushing against yours. “Unless you want to stay, you don’t have to come in.”

“I wanna.” You say nervously, rubbing your knuckles anxiously.

You follow him to the door slowly, staying close behind him. You ignore the strong urge to just grab his hand and never let go, Steve was acting as your life line and you wanted to be as close as possible at all times, Steve was where you felt safe.

Steve didn’t bother knocking, his face serious as he pushed open the door. He walked through briskly, keeping you close as he scoured the entryway for him, muscles tense.

“Y/N, you’re late.”

You froze, eyes widening. You couldn’t do this, not now, not ever. You couldn’t stand up to him, get away from him. He was strict, especially with you, he did a lot of bad things, things you’d known about before you’d even gotten with him. The drugs he took, the things he did after he took them. The drinking. It wasn’t until he got drunk that he got mean though, which was fairly typical you guessed.

Steve grit his teeth, making his way into the living room where your boyfriend sat, lounging back in a chair. “Who the hell are you?” He asked, frowning as he sat up only for Steve’s fist to connect with his jaw. Your eyes widened but you stayed quiet in mortification.

“You don’t get to hurt her, do you understand?” Steve snarled, his chest rising and falling heavily from the pure adrenaline and satisfaction from this. “Not anyone, ever, but especially not Y/N.” He growled. You watched your boyfriends brown eyes meet with yours, not scared, just angry and you suddenly remembered just why Steve was here and why this had to happen. He spat blood onto the carpet, his jaw already bruising. “Fucking look at me!” Steve pulled him up from his chair, holding him firmly in place.

You’d be lying if you said Steve didn’t terrify you right now, the anger in his voice and actions made you want to be far away from him, but you still trusted him too much to actually do anything.

Your boyfriends voice echoed in the room, managing to cover Steve’s voice almost completely, it snapped you out of your thoughts, eyes wide and hands trembling. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. “Y/N what the fuck did you do? Who the hell is this!”

You shook your head slightly, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. How the hell were you made to explain all this? Luckily, you didn’t have to because Steve interrupted, hand gripping his jaw. “This isn’t about her, it’s about you.”

The rest is mostly and almost regrettably a blur. Adrenaline racing through your body, breathes quick and your heart racing. Still, you end up outside, police cars lining the block, and for some reason it seems oddly out of place that there’s a jacket around your shoulders. It takes you longer than it should’ve to realize it was Steve’s. He’s talking to an officer across the street and by time you’re allowed to go back with Steve, you’re pretty sure it shouldn’t be possible to cry this much.

He’s sweet though, unbelievably so. He holds you the whole way back to the tower, arms around you protectively as you follow him shakily down the halls, his hands guiding you to sit on his bed while he gets you a glass of water and a shirt to wear, something that doesn’t have tears and dirt on it you assume.

“It’s uh, it’s gonna be too big. I can go see if Natasha has something?” Steve suggests quietly, looking at you worriedly.

You shook your head in response.

“Okay, I’ll let you change, I’ll be right over there.” Steve assured, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to your head that made you blush even though you couldn’t stop shaking. You offer him a small smile because after all of this, the two of you together seemed like a pretty good result. It would make you both happy.

“Thank you.." You say quietly.

“Of course, I’ve got you.” Steve smiled, turning to let you change as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After all this time, it was strange to think how something so perfect had come out of something so awful.

Once you’d changed, you went up quietly behind him and tapped his arm, startling him just enough he turned around, fast enough he couldn’t prepare for when you pressed your lips to his.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [My Blog](http://hey-kids-want-some-avengers.tumblr.com/)


End file.
